


What the Cat Dragged In

by Metal_Chocobo



Category: Addams Family - All Media Types, Beetlejuice (TV 1989)
Genre: Babysitting, Crushes, F/F, Presents, dead things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 09:24:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9484823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metal_Chocobo/pseuds/Metal_Chocobo
Summary: “You don’t have to bring me dead things to get my attention.”“But where’s the fun in that?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Most of the dead things in this fic are found dead wild animals. There's a bit about a gifted piece of roadkill that goes into some detail, but otherwise it's mostly glossed over.
> 
> Thanks to angelsaves for betaing.

Lydia started babysitting when she was in seventh grade in part to get out of the house. Her parents didn’t really understand her, and Delia insisted that if she wanted to pursue her interest in taking “spooky photos” she’d have to pay for her film herself. At first she only did it for the money, but after a while she realized she was actually pretty good with children. Not only did they like her, but Lydia had fun minding them.

However, the most unusual children Lydia babysat were a trio she took care of after her family moved to Peaceful Pines. She was really only there to take care of the youngest in particular—toddlers needed constant supervision—but seeing that the older two got dinner and didn’t maim each other was also part of the job description. Until she started babysitting them once a week, Lydia never realized adults could ever mean that literally.

Still, she liked Pubert, Pugsley, and Wednesday Addams. Sure, they were weird, but Lydia had grown up being considered weird as well, and she understood you didn’t have to fit the cookie-cutter molded definition of normal to be a good person. Pugsley and Wednesday had loads of talent. Lydia could already tell they’d grow up to be fascinating people and assumed Pubert would turn out the same way if he grew up under similar conditions.

When she babysat them, Lydia insisted they avoid the more dangerous activities that the kids liked to get up to on the grounds that those were things to enjoy only when their parents were home. So the explosives, guillotines, cannons, and torture were right out. Lydia also reserved the right to ban anything else she found alarming. However, after establishing a few ground rules at the start of her second time babysitting them, she’d rarely had to ban anything. 

Instead she took the children to play in their family’s cemetery or the swamp when the weather wasn’t too awful. When they couldn’t go out, Lydia entertained them with lessons on insects or skeletal remains as she bounced the baby on one knee. On the rare occasion their parents didn’t come home until after bedtime, Lydia wowed them with stories about the Neitherworld. Pubert liked Lydia’s impression of Ginger the tap-dancing spider, and Pugsley liked Jacques, but Wednesday was most focused on the sandworms.

Sometimes Wednesday scared her. Oh, it wasn’t when the girl was intentionally trying to be creepy, like when she described the best way to dismember a corpse, or scare her brother. Those were typical child behaviors, teasing siblings and begging for attention. No, what worried Lydia was the way Wednesday kept bringing her dead things… or even worse, not quite dead things. Lydia had nightmares after receiving a half gutted mouse that she had to put out of its misery, but Wednesday often brought her things that were still warm to the touch. Lydia could never tell if it was due to fresh death or decomposition. She didn’t know if the girl was killing these creatures or simply finding them, but if it was the former, Wednesday needed help. Torturing and killing animals was a sign of a disturbed individual, and Lydia refused to believe that even the Addamses wouldn’t be worried about their daughter doing that.

“Here you are, Lydia,” Wednesday said. 

She dropped something on Lydia’s lap that made a splatting noise when it hit. Lydia was already dreading to see whatever it was as she set down her book. Pubert was asleep in his crib, while Pugsley was working on his homework in the other room, which had left Wednesday to pursue her own devices. One of the first things Lydia had learned while babysitting the Addamses was that never ended well.

“Oh, what’s this?” Lydia asked, trying to remain as neutral as possible about the bloated mass of fur and blood soaking into her leggings. She gingerly lifted it up and set it down on the marble floor. The floor could be easily cleaned, but her leggings would likely have to be tossed.

“It’s a raccoon that was run over by the school bus earlier this week,” Wednesday explained. Her eyes were carefully trained on Lydia’s face, looking for any trace of a reaction. If she were grossed out or distressed, Wednesday would only bring her more of these things—at least, that’s what the other girls who had babysat the Addams family told her after they heard about Lydia’s job.

“I see. The decomposition in this raccoon is fairly advanced,” Lydia said, trying to be a thoughtful and caring babysitter instead of just grossed out. She’d be a lot more excited if Wednesday had brought her to the raccoon instead of bringing the raccoon to her. Blowflies always found freshly dead things and left eggs in them. Lydia had visions of spawn bursting out right now. “Were there maggot trails leaving the body before you moved it?”

“No. You can have something to look forward to.” When Lydia glanced down at the girl she almost appeared to be smiling, or at least as close as Wednesday ever got to smiling.

“Why don’t we put this outside? That way when the maggots do emerge they can continue on in their natural environment,” Lydia said.

She scooped up the mass of flesh that had once been an animal and carefully carried it outside. If she dropped it or punctured the skin, there was a high probability it would explode due to the obviously built-up internal gas. While having all that bacteria and smell spread across the living room might delight her employers, Lydia didn’t particularly enjoy smelling of cadaverine. Even with her poor sense of smell, she’d certainly notice that if she were coated in it. Delia probably wouldn’t let her into the house.

Once outside, Lydia laid the raccoon in one of the garden beds as Wednesday watched. She wiped her hands on the grass before rising. Then, turning to Wednesday, Lydia plastered a big grin on her face.

“Let’s turn this into a science project, Wednesday. Come out and check on Mr. Raccoon every day, maybe even several times every day, and write down your observations,” Lydia said. “Everything you see and smell along with the time and local weather conditions should be recorded. If the raccoon weren’t so far along in the decomposition process already, I’d ask for an internal temperature as well. I’ll be interested in reading through your notes when I come back next week, okay?”

“Of course, Lydia.” Wednesday nodded and disappeared into the house. Lydia hoped she was off to find a spare notebook.

When she came back next week, Lydia received ten pages of notes about the raccoon and a pigeon that had come out of the tar pit. Wednesday had even mounted it on a plaque for her. The bird was actually pretty cool, and Lydia didn’t bother to mute her reaction to it as she enthusiastically told the kids she’d put it on top of her bookcase when she got home. That left Pugsley showing Lydia his own collection of things pried from the tar pit, but Wednesday walked away without a word.

“I just don’t get it,” Lydia complained the next morning over breakfast. “Why does Wednesday keep giving me all these dead animals? I’ve made a point of not reacting to these things because their past babysitters said the kids derive glee from making them scream. Surely the thrill would have worn off by now, it’s been several months!”

“I don’t know why you babysit those disgusting children,” Delia sniffed. “There are so many better options for you to babysit closer to home.”

“Most people balk at a goth babysitter,” Lydia pointed out. “Besides, I like all of them, even Wednesday, most of the time. They’re a sweet family and the house is absolutely deadly-vu!”

“Well, you do what you think best, pumpkin,” Charles said, dishing out several pancakes. “We may not understand it, but we trust your judgment.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Lydia said. She waved the stack of papers from Wednesday. “Kinda regretting assigning her homework on the dead raccoon. Now I’ll have to read and grade it.”

“Then I’m certain you’ll understand what your teachers go through,” Delia said. “Are you meeting Bertha and Prudence at the library today?”

“Yeah,” Lydia said. “We have a history project and—oh, Percy, what’s that in your mouth?”

Her black cat proudly lay a severed rabbit head at her feet. Lydia would almost find it cool, but Percy had left a trail of guts from the back door. Of course, Delia freaked as soon as she saw the mess. Charles went pale and hid himself behind a wall of newspaper.

“That cat needs to stop bringing dead things into the house immediately!” Delia shouted. “It’s bad enough that you do it, Lydia, but at least you don’t make a mess in the process!”

“Percy isn’t trying to be gross. He just wants a little praise and affection for being such a good hunter. That’s why he brought me this present,” Lydia said, petting the purring cat. 

She threw the rabbit head in the trash and then grabbed a roll of paper towels to wipe up the trail. Percy purred and twined through her legs as Lydia scrubbed the kitchen floor with disinfectant. He was so pleased by Lydia’s reaction to his gift that he couldn’t leave her alone. It was vaguely annoying, but Lydia appreciated the sentiment behind the gesture. In fact, it was a little like…

“Oh,” Lydia said, pausing her clean-up as the pieces fell into place. “So that’s what she’s doing.”

When Lydia arrived at the Addams house the next week, she brought gifts for all three children. For Pugsley she brought a new set of glassware for his chemistry set, since he had blown up all of his old ones. Pubert received a mobile from the Neitherworld, which she hung over his cradle. As for Wednesday, Lydia presented her with a fully articulated and labeled crow skeleton. To her delight, the gift actually got a smile out of the woeful girl.

“While it comes on a stand, it can be easily detached and hung from the ceiling on these wires here,” Lydia said, showing Wednesday the strings.

“Thank you, Lydia,” Wednesday said, holding the crow gently. “I’ll treasure it always.”

“It took me a while to realize what you were doing, but I appreciate the gifts. Thank you, they were very thoughtful.” Lydia grinned. “However, I prefer things that have either been dead for a very long time or never alive.”

“I will keep that in mind.”

“Now, what do you say we hang that up in your room?” Lydia asked. Wednesday nodded, and they walked up to her room holding hands.

Wednesday continued to give presents after that, but thankfully she abided by Lydia’s request. She also got a lot better about not dropping the item on Lydia, which drastically cut down on her need for a new wardrobe. However, when Lydia started her senior year she soon realized she was too busy to babysit. Mr. and Mrs. Addams were disappointed, but they understood when she explained the situation to them; after all, a good education was important, even if they didn’t think much of the public school system.

The children did not take the news very well. On Lydia’s final, visit Pugsley climbed up the chimney and refused to come down. Pubert didn’t understand what was going on, but he could sense the tension and started screaming without pause. Lydia would have comforted him to get him to calm down, but Wednesday had managed to entangle her in some of Cleopatra’s tentacles. Lydia spent hours keeping the African Strangler plant from nibbling on her as she tried to break free. Wednesday watched as she struggled. She offered to free her if she’d stay, but Lydia refused. As irritated as she was with the girl, she didn’t want to lie to her. Wednesday had a dim enough view on humanity as it was.

Luckily Mrs. Addams was able to free Lydia as soon as she got home. As she fed Cleopatra yak meat and Lydia rubbed her friction burns, Mr. Addams comforted Pubert, though he thought it was a shame to stop the crying.

“I must say, Lydia, I’m a little surprised Cleopatra is so sad to see you go,” Mrs. Addams said. “She doesn’t usually get this emotional about the children’s babysitters. You’ve had a lasting effect on the family.”

“She’s had a lasting effect on me as well,” Lydia muttered. “Have you seen Wednesday recently?”

“She was out front with a pair of bolt cutters when we got home,” Mr. Addams said. “I’m surprised she isn’t trying to get Pugsley out of the chimney.”

“I see,” Lydia said. “I think I need to have a word with her. Excuse me.”

She marched outside to find Wednesday sitting on the hood of her car. Lydia didn’t see any bolt cutters, but she was sitting far too nonchalantly for the innocent act to be real. Realizing that a direct confrontation was the only way to go, Lydia put her hands on her hips and fixed Wednesday with a glare. She knew it wasn’t anything compared to what the little girl could dish out, but it was the best she could manage.

“Wednesday Addams, did you tamper with my brakes?” Lydia asked.

“No.”

“Did you tamper with any part of my car?”

“Only the ignition.”

“Wednesday, you need to stop. You can’t trap me here,” Lydia sighed. It was a good thing she’d spent so much time working on Doomie in the Neitherworld, otherwise she’d never get her car to start. Still, she wasn’t looking forward to the repair work—Wednesday might destroy something else.

“But I don’t want you to go!” Wednesday shouted. “You’re so much better than Pugsley or Pubert! You should stay here with me forever!”

“Wednesday, I’m surprised at you,” Mr. Addams said. Wednesday ran over to her father and he pulled her into a hug. “We Addamses don’t hold people against their will—unless, of course, it’s Cousin Stockholm—and while we’ll all miss Lydia, we should be grateful for the time we had with her. Why if you trapped her here, she’d never get to tour the cemeteries of Europe!”

“That’s always been a dream of mine,” Lydia said.

“Would you like to give her a going-away present, Wednesday? Something Lydia can always remember you by?” Mrs. Addams asked. Wednesday wouldn’t say anything, but she nodded slowly.

That was how Lydia ended up going home with one of Cleopatra’s buds in a pot. She named the little African Strangler Hannibal and kept him on a high shelf out of Percy’s reach. However, she barely needed to, as one near-death experience with the plant kept the cat as far away from Hannibal as possible. Her parents thought it was a vaguely attractive plant, but mostly ignored it. Lydia made a point of being the only one to feed it; she wanted it to stay a manageable size. 

Senior year at Miss Shannon’s School for Girls was fairly dull. Lydia enjoyed her extracurricular activities with Beetlejuice in the Neitherworld far more than her studies, but she put her full effort into both. With college applications and their deadlines rapidly approaching, Lydia was quite busy, but she always made a point to sit down and write a letter every day. Most were to her relatives, spread far and wide across the country, but the one she wrote on Wednesday was always for Wednesday Addams. It was her way of letting the girl know she hadn’t forgotten about her and, while Wednesday never wrote back, Lydia liked having someone to tell all her adventures.

Lydia continued this habit even after she left for college. Of course she took Hannibal along to her dorm room, he was a danger unattended, but Percy had to stay behind. While her roommate didn’t think much of her or her plant, Lydia soon found a group of friends on campus who appreciated her and her morbid curiosity. Visits to the Neitherworld dropped off as she got more invested in her studies, but Lydia never stopped seeing Beetlejuice or writing Wednesday, even if he told her the latter was a waste of time.

Before she knew it, four years had flown by and Lydia was graduating. She had ended up majoring in history, with a focus on preservation, with a minor in photography. Ideally, Lydia hoped she’d either get a job at a historical landmark or be able to make a living on her photography. However, she was aware both were likely pipe dreams and had more reasonable expectations about her future prospects. As her apartment lease was about to expire, she had packed up all her things, ready to move home until she found stable work. Lydia still had some savings from her work for the Addams—during her year with them she had received a mattress worth of unmarked bills, but that had dwindled over the years.

Still, Lydia had enough to get a cup of coffee, and since the day was beautifully dreary, but not raining, she decided to go to her favorite café. After placing an order inside, she took a seat on the patio and pulled out her book. A little while later she heard something clank down on the table. When she looked up, Lydia was a little startled to see a human skull with a black ribbon tied into a bow around it, but then she smiled.

“You don’t have to bring me dead things to get my attention.”

“But where’s the fun in that?”

A young woman with a pair of black braids slid into the seat across from her. She didn’t smile, but Lydia’s grin grew wider as she set her book down. A waitress came by, dropping off Lydia’s coffee, her slice of ‘death by chocolate’ cake, and a cup for her companion. Lydia thanked the waitress and then turned back to her unexpected company. There was a long silence as she observed her.

“You’ve really grown up,” Lydia finally said. “As tacky as it is to say, you look just like your mother, though you definitely have your father’s nose.”

“Actually, I have Uncle Fester’s nose in a jar,” Wednesday corrected her. Lydia laughed, but she was certain it wasn’t a joke. She rarely joked and it generally wasn’t this sort.

“It’s great to see you again, but what brings you to town?” Lydia asked. “College orientation, perhaps?”

“Father says it’s traditional for Addamses to travel once they come of age. I plan to spend the next year in Europe seeing historic sights, meeting distant relatives, and developing further skills,” Wednesday said.

“Good for you,” Lydia said. She was unsure why Wednesday was here, but she was happy to see the young woman.

“Mother says the grand tour can be lonely,” Wednesday continued. “She suggested I take a friend.”

“And you want me?” Lydia asked. Wednesday nodded. “I’m very flattered, but I doubt I could afford it. I already have to move back in with my family, since I can’t afford to live on my own.”

“There’s no need to worry about any of that. As my traveling companion everything would be provided for you,” Wednesday said. “You could finally photograph the cemeteries of Europe. I know that was a dream of yours.”

“Why me?” Lydia asked. “Surely there are people you’d rather travel with. We haven’t seen each other in years.”

“Lydia, you are the only person I would rather converse with than gouge their eyes out. You make a sunny day tolerable,” Wednesday said. “I got your letters. I read every one countless times. You are not simply my first choice, you are my only choice.”

“You never responded. I half assumed you burned them without reading,” Lydia mused, tapping her finger against her coffee. “You were so upset when I stopped babysitting.”

“There was no point in responding. Everything I was doing you had already done.” Wednesday shrugged. “My experiences would have been superfluous to you and therefore pointless to record or send.”

“I highly doubt that. Even if you were learning what I already knew, and that’s debatable, your unique perspective would have been invaluable to me,” Lydia said. She couldn’t imagine anyone else having a similar perspective, even out of her ghoul friends. “It certainly would have made this feel a little more like a reunion between friends instead of meeting a ghost.”

“I should think the latter would always be preferable.”

“That’s true, a lot of my friends are ghosts,” Lydia laughed. She smiled and reached for Wednesday’s hand. “You scare me a little at times, but I’ve always been very fond of you.”

“The feeling is mutual.” Wednesday smirked. Her hand twisted around and suddenly their fingers were intertwined.

“I’m not sure you’ll find what you’re looking for with me,” Lydia said, looking down at their fingers. “There’s a good chance you’ll be disappointed by the end of the grand tour.”

“I doubt that very much, but I’m willing to take that risk. We Addamses are born gamblers and tend to be very lucky.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to discover what you’re like now that you’re a grown woman,” Lydia laughed.

“Does this mean you’ll come with?” Wednesday asked. 

“Yes. I’ve always wanted to see Europe and this is the best opportunity I’ll ever have. I’m sure this tour will include most of the places I want to see and I imagine I can convince you to make extra excursions to the other places,” Lydia said. “Besides, you’ll need someone to ensure this trip has a little optimism and gothic cheer. Also, photos. I want to take lots of photos and I can’t imagine a better model than you.”

For the second time in her life, Lydia Deetz saw Wednesday Addams smile.


End file.
